Languish In The Pumpkin Patch
by Alpha-Starr
Summary: Series of chronologically ordered, digestible stories, each centering around a different pumpkin-flavored food. Recipes included. DirkJake served a la mode. AU.
1. Pumpkin Pie

**Author's Note:** Here are the rules: no Sburb, recipes at the end of each chapter, and absolutely no languishing in the pumpkin patch. We shall thrive, thank you very much. ;)

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Homestuck,  
For it belongs to the Huss.  
It just so happens that's my luck,  
No need to make a fuss.

* * *

The first time he met Jake English, Dirk Strider wound up wearing pumpkin pie all over his face.

It wasn't the most ideal of meetings, by any circumstance. After tripping on him and sending an entire pumpkin pie smashing into his face, the dark-haired child had taken one look at Dirk, burst into tears, and run off.

This, of course left Dirk to attempt to pick himself and the bathroom pass off the floor, his (ironic) kiddy pilgrim costume covered in cinnamon-spiced pumpkin goop. What had that been all about, anyways? As the coolest kid in the third grade, it should have been no problem for him to stand up and move on as if nothing had happened.

Except, apparently, something _had_ happened- aside from the soiling of a costume, that is. Both he and the boy who'd tripped on top of him wound up sending the combination of both their weights crashing down on Dirk's rather unfortunate wrist, which was now veritably sprained.

He fumbled around for probably three minutes, attempting to stand up without the use of his right hand, before the kid who'd crashed into him finally came back with a teacher.

"Oh my," the teacher had said worriedly. "Are you all right?"

Jake sniffled and wiped his nose with his sleeve.

"I'm mostly ok but I think I hurt my wrist," Dirk frowned, gritting his teeth. He was always tough, even as a kid. After all, Striders didn't cry. It was a cardinal rule he'd learned from his older brother.

"Would you mind if I looked?" the teacher asked kindly. Dirk nodded his assent and she took his hand in one of hers. He winced.

"It looks like a sprain," the teacher decided with a soft frown. "Here, let me help you up, we'll have to see the nurse about this."

"Sure," Dirk accepted the hand up almost nonchalantly, the only sign of the pain he was experiencing shown in his tightly pressed together lips.

So the teacher, with the two students in tow, led the way to the school nurse, who immediately took care of Dirk's injury with a splint and not-so-immediately taking care of the mess on Dirk's clothes by calling home with a request for a change.

As he waited for the nurse, Dirk couldn't help but watch the kid who'd fallen on him. He was still bawling.

"Hey, bro," Dirk found himself saying. "You okay?"

"I'm really, really sorry," Jake sniffled. "I didn't mean to hurt you!"

"Don't worry about it. I've had worse," Dirk replied offhandedly, even though he really hadn't. "I'm Dirk Strider, coolkid. What's your name?"

"Jake English," he wiped his face on the sleeve of his sweater and tried a smile. "Adventurer extraordinaire. Wanna be friends?"

"Okay."

It was the budding of a friendship sweeter than the pie on Dirk's face.

* * *

**Pumpkin Pie:**

1 medium-to-small pumpkin OR 2 cups canned pumpkin puree  
1 can evaporated milk (12 oz.)  
1/2 cup brown sugar  
1/3 cup white sugar  
1/2 teaspoon salt  
2 eggs, plus the yolk of a third egg  
2 teaspoons cinnamon  
1 teaspoon ground ginger  
1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg  
1/4 teaspoon ground cloves  
1/4 teaspoon ground cardamon  
1/2 teaspoon of lemon zest  
1 pie crust, unbaked

1) Make pumpkin puree from the pumpkin. This is done by halving the pumpkin, scooping out the seed-goop, and placing it cut-side down on an aluminum-foil lined baking sheet. It should be baked at 350 degrees Fahrenheit for roughly an hour and a half, until you can stick a fork in it. Remove the pumpkin from the oven and scoop out the pulp. Blend until smooth.

2) Heat oven to 425 degrees Fahrenheit.

3) Mix the sugar, salt, spices, and lemon zest in a large bowl. Beat the eggs, then add them in. Add the pumpkin puree and the evaporated milk. Whisk the mixture together.

4) Pour the pumpkin mixture into the pie crust and bake at 425 degrees for approximately 15 minutes. Reduce the temperature to 350 degrees and continue baking for about 45 minutes.

5) Remove pie from oven and cool. Serve with whipped cream, or on Dirk's face.

Recipe from simplyrecipes dot com.


	2. Pumpkin Fudge

**Author's Note:** What is a pumpkin fic, one might ask, without Halloween?

**Disclaimer:** I just wrote some dumb fanfiction  
About pumpkins and some guys.  
I clearly don't own Homestuck-  
Don't try to ask me why.

* * *

With all the speed typical of hyperactive ten-year-old boys, it took them almost no time to complete their first Halloween run together.

"Come on, Dirk!" Jake laughed, straddling his brown hobby horse, an accessory to his cowboy costume. He re-adjusted the Pony-Express style messenger bag he'd brought to carry around his loot, "I'll race you back to Grandma's house!"

"I don't know about that, bro," Dirk smirked beneath the plastic pumpkin helmet/mask he wore as part of his Headless Horseman ensemble. He clutched an ironically pink and sparkly hobby horse not too much unlike Jake's. "Wouldn't want to beat you too bad."

"Haha! Good one, ol' chum," Jake kidded back, jokingly nudging Dirk with his shoulder. "I think it is _I_ who will be beating _you_!"

"Aw, heck no," Dirk leaned forward on his horse, unable to refuse a challenge. "You're on, English."

"On the count of three, then?" Jake grinned eagerly. He began the countdown, "One..."

"Two..." they chorused together, gripping their horses tighter.

"Three!"

They took off, dashing through the neighborhood in the direction of Jake's home, the manes of their noble steeds flying backwards as they ran against the wind. The road was vacant of cars at this time of night, everyone having already come home from work for the day, giving the two boys ample room to zoom about in the streets. They hadn't ventured too far from where they started at Grandma English's house, anyways, with the neighborhood being a veritable infestation of pure housing. Jake's grandma lived on the corner, a place shortly before where the road turned into a cul-de-sac, and they could see the bright orange jack-o-lanterns littering her abode from a block away.

This year, two dozen pumpkins of various sizes decorated the outside of the house, glowing for all to see. Grandma English's house was a neighborhood favorite, a must-stop for trick-or-treaters. Every year, she passed out homemade pumpkin fudge for all: the only non-prepackaged treat parents would allow their children to have. After all, they trusted the elderly woman whose garden held the largest pumpkin patch in town. Most of them knew her personally.

In record time, Dirk and Jake made it home, gasping so hard they'd forgotten who got to the doorstep first. It didn't matter; they would surely race again tomorrow and the next day and the day after that, too, competing against each other simply for the sake of competing.

"You cheated!" Jake accused, giggling with the exhilaration of speed running through his veins.

"How could I cheat?" Dirk asked back, playfully punching Jake's shoulder. "You were watching right behind me the whole time!"

They stood at the door, catching their breaths and giggling all the while, before Jake finally rang the doorbell.

Grandma English opened the door, and, pretending not to recognize them, asked, "And who might you be? I see a rootin', tootin' cowboy here, and a scary headless horseman, too! Could either of you tell me where my grandson and his friend are?"

"Grandma!" Jake cried, whipping off his cowboy hat. "It's me!"

"Well, so it is!" Grandma English acted surprised. She laughed, "Well, come on in, boys! It's starting to get dark. Wouldn't want to be out when the ghosties come out."

Jake gasped and hurried inside, but Dirk raised an eyebrow and said, "Is that a challenge? Cause I can kick any ghost's butt with the power of logic!"

"No! Come on, Dirk!" Jake ran back out and began pulling at his best friend's sleeve. "It's too dangerous!"

Grandma English winked at the boy who didn't believe in ghosts, "I have leftover fudge for you if you come in."

Dirk smiled- a rare occasion indeed- and finally said, "Well, I guess it couldn't hurt."

It was delicious, Dirk decided later, but especially because he was sharing it with his best friend.

* * *

**Pumpkin Fudge:**

2 tablespoons butter  
2 1/2 cups white sugar  
2/3 cup evaporated milk  
1 cup white chocolate chips  
7 ounces marshmallow creme  
3/4 cup pumpkin puree (canned or made from scratch)  
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon  
1 teaspoon vanilla extract

1) Line a 9x9 inch pan with foil and set aside.

2) In a fairly large saucepan, heat the milk and sugar together. Bring to a boil, stirring occasionally.

3) Mix in pumpkin puree and cinnamon. Bring to a boil again, then add marshmallow creme and butter. Bring to a boil for a third time.

4) Cook for about 18 minutes while stirring occasionally.

5) Remove from heat and add the white chocolate chips and vanilla. Stir until all the chocolate chips are melted.

6) Pour into the prepared pan and allow the mixture to set and cool. Once cool, remove the fudge by the tinfoil and peel the tinfoil off. Cut fudge into squares.

7) If you are Grandma English, wrap fudge in small plastic baggies and give out to children on Halloween. If you aren't Grandma English, eat it yourself, since parents are paranoid about homemade sweets containing nails and whatnot and will probably convince their children to throw it away.

Recipe from allrecipes-dot-com.

**Disclaimer:** Do not eat unwrapped, homemade sweets given out by friendly neighborhood grandmas because they may be dangerous for consumption.


	3. Toasted Pumpkin Seeds

They were thirteen and it was the last day of the summer before high school.

That year, summer had been hot as hell- maybe even hotter. The fan softly whirred stale air over the two boys. Like many nights before, Dirk was over at Jake's house, both nibbling at pumpkin seeds as they lay sprawled out on the floor together. Jake wore a t-shirt and shorts. Dirk was clad in a wifebeater and somehow managed not to be sweltering in jeans. They were alternating between the various packets that had been handed out nearly three months prior and watching Jake's collection of adventure films, the least of which included Indiana Jones and Lara Croft.

"Hey, Dirk, what'd you get for question 43 in the summer reading packet?" Jake asked nonchalantly as the film came to a less-adventurous lull.

"Dude, you're still not done with that?" Dirk half-smiled in bemusement. That was classic Jake English, procrastinator extraordinaire.

"It's a long question, all right!?" Jake flushed. He hadn't even read the entire book, choosing to merely skim over the more boring scenes and cut right to the action. "Would you please just tell me what Penelope's role was?"

"Come on, English, you should know this," Dirk gave his shoulder an amicable shove. "With your thing for damsels in distress and shit."

"Oh, then she MUST be meant to swoon over Odysseus, just like everyone else in the book!" Jake beamed, as if he'd had an epiphany. "Golly gee, thanks, Dirk!"

"That's not-" Dirk tried to correct Jake before giving up and half-smiling bemusedly. "Never mind, bromine. You'll get it eventually."

Jake hurriedly scribbled the answer down, eager to get his homework finished before midnight, so he'd be able to just hang with his best bro. His work was mostly finished, anyways; he only had a few pages of the math packet remaining after he finished this one. Dirk was on the second-to-last page of his own math packet, a rather difficult one for someone who was only just reaching the ninth grade. He just knew that the teacher for accelerated math classes would be hell to deal with- and not just because his elder brother had already told him it was so.

They worked at the papers for another few minutes before Jake finally spoke, "Hey, Dirk?"

"Hm?" Dirk looked up from his assignment.

"Do you think we'll still be friends in high school?" Jake asked, setting his pencil down and gazing at his best friend intently.

"What brought this on?" Dirk queried back. "You think I'm gonna ditch you once we start learning Shakespeare, or some shit?"

"No! No, it's not that," Jake reassured him quickly. He sighed and said, "I guess, you know, you'll be going to all your fancy honors classes and whatnot, and we won't be in the same classes anymore... and you'll have other friends, too, from all those sports you signed up with. I guess all I'm saying is that I'm worried you'll be too busy for me. Just a smidgen."

"Aw hell no," Dirk pushed the bowl of pumpkin seeds between them away and rolled over so that he was right next to Jake. "Nothing would make me too busy to hang out with my best bro. You and I, Jake, we're always gonna be friends."

"Really?" Jake looked hopeful.

Dirk swung his arm across Jake's back and gave him a sideways hug, "Really."

"Pinkie-promise me, then," Jake replied solemnly, his eyes finding Dirk's even through his friend's obscuring shades. He held up his pinkie.

Dirk looked back into Jake's gaze, equally as undeterred by the tinted glass between them. With an air of confident finality, he linked his pinkie with Jake's.

"I promise."

* * *

**Toasted Pumpkin Seeds:**

The insides of 1 pumpkin

1) Take the pumpkin-goop from the first chapter's recipe and wash off the stringy, gooey stuff.

2) Dry the seeds off in a paper towel, then let sit until completely dry.

3) Put the seeds in a small pan over low heat and stir every 2-3 minutes until they begin to change color. Eat with your best friend.

Recipe via my grandma.


	4. Curry Pumpkin Soup

**Author's Note:** I know it's a little out there. Don't worry about telling me.

**Dislcaimer**: Let me be turned to ashes  
Or to ogre or to gnome  
If I should ever dare to claim  
Upon the Stuck of Home.

* * *

Dirk was almost sixteen when his parents died.

It's October, and they'd just been home for Halloween before they'd headed to New York and performed a special, one-night-only show with the world-renowned circus, P. D. Barney's House of Carnies. As long as Dirk could remember, his mother had been a clown- the type that does trapeze stunts and pretends to be really bad at it- and his father had been the greatest sword-thrower there has ever been. It was a dangerous lifestyle, some might say, but they loved it.

And they'd paid the ultimate price for their love. In a freak accident involving the fire-breather, an accidentally-released lion, and a swimming pool, they were both killed the night before the show. Dirk had heard the news only a few hours after the occurrence. His parents were dead. No more helping mom put on stage-makeup, no more swordsmanship lessons from dad, no more ironic family outings on the other side of the circus ring. People who'd been central to the early part of his life were suddenly not there. Absent. Gone.

It didn't really hit him until they were buried, that this was _it_, and those were their _actual bodies_ being sent into the ground, not merely meat puppets made in their fashion. He and his elder brother watched on, along with their parents' co-workers and friends, as the double-funeral was held. Dirk stared as the coffins were lowered into the gaping hole just in front of the gravestone. "_Lily and Calvin Strider_," he knew it read, followed by their dates for births and deaths and "_The memory of laughter lingers far after it is gone._" The last thing Dirk felt like doing is laughing.

His brother, Dave, managed a half-smile of amusement at the irony of it all, "You know, lil' man, they'd laugh at how ironic this whole situation is."

"Fuck you," replied Dirk, but only because he knew it was true. He almost couldn't bear to watch the dirt being replaced atop the grave. He did it anyways.

He didn't cry. Striders never cried, his father told him- largely because it smeared stage makeup. But then, Striders didn't normally smile, either- that was so they didn't warp the painstakingly painted-on smiles that were part of the uniform. Both suited Dirk just fine.

(The Striders had been circus performers for five generations. Dirk hoped to God he wasn't going to follow in their paths. It was enough to make a man shudder.)

He passed through the next day as if in a dream, and the day after that, too. Like a puppet did he go through all the motions of the day, practically unaware of whatever his new guardian, his brother, was doing. Dave was some hotshot Hollywood director, anyways; he was busy enough without having to deal with the loss of his parents and the responsibility of his younger sibling.

On the third day after his parents were buried, there was a knock at Dirk's door. He didn't feel like standing up to answer it, but he managed to rouse himself enough to see who it was.

"Jake?" he asked, his eyebrows raising in tired surprise. "What're you doing here?"

"Well, I thought I'd stop by and see how my best friend was doing," Jake admitted abashedly. "Are you quite all right, my dear fellow?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Peachy keen," Dirk answered in the same, usual monotone.

Jake didn't know why, but he could sense something a bit off about the way his best bro had spoken. In fact, he was getting the feeling that nothing was right at all.

"Well..." he replied hesitantly, biting his lip. "If you're certain..."

"I am," Dirk said, and then Jake was convinced for sure he wasn't.

"You wouldn't mind too terribly if I came in for a while, would you?" Jake leaned into the doorframe and lay his hand on Dirk's shoulder.

"No. Come in," Dirk welcomed unenthusiastically. He sounded so hollow that Jake's heart just about broke.

Suddenly, as if a trigger had been pulled, Jake leapt towards Dirk, pulling him into a firm hug, squeezing him as if afraid to let go. Dirk, for his part, was so surprised that it stunned him out of his melancholy stupor, and he found himself unable to do anything except hug back. The two boys stood there together for a long time, their arms wrapped around each other, mirrored heartbeats pounding against opposite chests as if they were also seeking comfort in each others' very veins.

It could have been an hour before Dirk finally (reluctantly) pulled away from the embrace. His eyes glanced over the face before him, lit by brilliant emerald-colored eyes and framed with hair of raven black, and Dirk realized that, in the right light, Jake English looked a little like a saving angel.

"I, uh, brought some curry-pumpkin soup," Jake managed to say awkwardly, trying to pretend he hadn't just spent an eternity in the arms of his best bro. He held out a cylindrical thermos that Dirk realized he must have had with him the whole time. "It's good. You should eat it."

Dirk, who actually hadn't eaten for the past two days, suddenly found himself starving, "All right."

The delicious pumpkin soup wasn't the only thing that warmed his heart.

* * *

**Curry Pumpkin Soup:**

1 chopped onion  
4 small cloves garlic, minced  
1 teaspoon curry  
2 tablespoons of butter or margarine  
1 cup pumpkin puree  
Nutmeg (to taste)  
2 cups broth  
1.5 cups milk  
1 tablespoon cornstarch

1) Cook onion, garlic, and curry in the butter or margarine in a large pan, until the onion is tender.

2) Add pumpkin, nutmeg, sugar and the bay leaf. Then, stir in the broth and bring to a boil.

3) Reduce heat and simmer, uncovered, for about 15 minutes.

4) Remove the bay leaf.

5) Stir in 1 cup of the milk and cook over low heat.

6) Meanwhile, stir the remaining milk and cornstarch together in a separate bowl. The cornstarch should dissolve.

7) Add the cornstarch mixture to the main pan and continue cooking until soup is thickened and bubbly. Serve while hot to a friend in need of some comfort and warmth.

Recipe from pumpkinnook-dot-com.


	5. Pumpkin Cookies

It was terribly embarrassing, Jake thought, that he was so nervous about giving his best bro a friendly Valentine.

The night prior, he'd forgone Algebra homework in favor of baking a few batches of his grandmother's famous pumpkin cookies... "a few" meaning six, the first five of which came out ruined. He'd burned two batches to a blackened char. One of them wound up a liquidy soup. Another batch found its way stuck to the ceiling, and the fifth became a mutated, flour-y blob that Jake didn't even want to touch, much less eat. Jake was not, by any means, a good baker, and he'd politely turned down any help from his expert grandmother. He wanted the sentiment to come straight from his heart, after all. And baking by himself, from scratch, was the surest way of letting his love be known.

Brotherly love, that is! No, siree, Jake's feelings towards his best friend were in no way more than platonic! The very thought made Jake laugh nervously. It was preposterous, and inappropriate besides, for Jake to harbor feelings for Dirk that erred on the romantic. He could just _imagine_ Dirk's reaction to a hypothetical (and _purely_ hypothetical) confession on Jake's behalf, the result of which would most certainly be a refusal to remain compatriots and a solid bruising of both Jake's body and his ego.

Nay, it was best to let those ideas lie and focus on giving Dirk a one-hundred-percent _friendly_ gesture of _friendship_ between a couple of best _friends_. This was the goal that Jake was determined to acheive, in spite of it all. There was no time to swoon when one was so busy being as platonic as possible!

Besides, Jake convinced himself, it wasn't proper form to fawn over one's best bro so soon after splitting up with a gal. Not that Jane hadn't been great- indeed, she had been _too_ great for Jake- but something was just _missing_. They'd mutually agreed that things between them didn't quite work out, and they were far better off as friends. The same way, Jake knew, he had to be convinced he and Dirk would be best as just pals.

This resolved, Jake felt doubly steeled for confronting his closest compatriot. Box of biscuits in hand, he marched up to Dirk at his locker, his behavior as a tsundere's ripped straight out of the animes.

"Good morrow, Dirk!" Jake leaned against the locker beside Dirk's- a bad move, in retrospect, because it belonged to Horuss Zahhak. He cringed and tried to wipe off the residual sweat from the locker he'd mistakenly leaned upon.

"Sup, English. What's bangin', bromine?" Dirk shut his locker and looked at him. "You might not want to go around saying 'morrow' at three PM in the afternoon, by the way. It means 'morning'."

"Does it really?" Jake sounded surprised. "That's news to me!"

Dirk raised an amused eyebrow at him, "Of course it is. Typical English."

"Hey! What's that supposed to mean?" Jake pouted. He jabbed Dirk in the chest with the box he was holding. "You know, you're really making me re-think giving this to you!"

The corner of Dirk's lip tilted upward in an almost-smile as he accepted the box whose edge was currently digging into his breastbone, "Thanks."

Jake let go of the box with some reluctance, still concerned about Dirk's opinion of its contents. He looked at him expectantly.

There were a few moments of silence before Jake finally said, "Well?"

"Well, what?" Dirk raised and lowered his eyebrows bemusedly.

"Well, aren't you going to open it?" Jake questioned, feeling somewhat nervous.

"Sure," Dirk replied nonchalantly, lifting the lid of the box. He eyed the contents before stating, "Cookies."

"Pumpkin cookies," Jake corrected him. He added enthusiastically, "Try one!"

Dirk looked at him, shrugged, and then withdrew a biscuit from the container. Jake watched carefully as Dirk bit into it, eager to know how his first foray into the culinary arts would turn out. He watched as Dirk chewed and swallowed...

... and grimaced?

Dirk fell into some sort of coughing fit as he choked on the baked confection, "Jesus fucking Christ! English, what the hell did you put in these!?"

"I don't know!" Jake cried out, alarmed by his apparent failure. "I followed the recipe _exactly_!"

Dirk coughed and spluttered as he held the box out to Jake, "You try."

"All right," Jake took a biscuit himself and bit into it.

He instantly regretted it. Spitting int out, he realized that somewhere along the lines of baking, he'd accidentally used salt instead of sugar.

"Good golly!" Jake gasped, flushing bright red with humiliation. "I'm so sorry!"

Horrendously embarrassed, Jake fled the school, swinging his backpack over his shoulder and running home. How would he ever face Dirk again after that awful incident?

Jake was panting by the time he got back home, so mortified by his error that he'd covered the distance in record time. He yanked the front door open, slammed it behind him, and retreated into his room, wondering if he should ever emerge or just become a shut-in. For the next hour, he lay on his bed, face buried in his pillow, trying to will away the embarrassment. Valentine's Day was turning out to be a veritable _disaster_!

However, like all days, Jake had to do his homework _eventually_. He rolled miserably out of bed, flopping over onto the floor and groaning. He was in no mood to attempt to catch up on algebra. Still, he opened his backpack... and was surprised by what he found there.

Inside his backpack was a small, orange-colored Chinese-food box. A green card rested on top, reading, "Happy V-day, bro. Love, Dirk." Strider, that sneaky fellow- he must have put it in Jake's backpack when he wasn't looking. Opening the box, Jake was shocked to see what appeared to be a batch of Dirk's own pumpkin cookies.

Jake smiled and traced over the word "love" on the card with his finger. He hadn't even tried the cookies, but somehow, it didn't matter how they tasted. Everything he wanted was right here, written in four small letters.

Perhaps not all was lost.

* * *

**Pumpkin Cookies:**

2 1/2 cups flour  
1 teaspoon baking soda  
1 teaspoon baking powder  
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon  
1/2 teaspoon ground nutmeg  
1 1/2 cups sugar (NOT SALT)  
1 stick softened butter (1/2 cup)  
1 cup pumpkin puree  
1 large egg  
1 teaspoon vanilla extract

1) Preheat oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit. Grease cookie sheets.

2) Combine flour, baking soda, baking powder, cinnamon, and nutmeg in a medium bowl. Set aside.

3) Beat together sugar and butter with a mixer or a fork in a large bowl. Beat in pumpkin, egg, and vanilla extract until smooth. Gradually beat in the flour mixture.

4) Drop by rounded tablespoonfuls onto the prepared baking sheets and bake for 15 to 18 minutes.

5) Remove cookies from oven and cool completely. Give to your best friend/secret crush to express your feelings.

Yields 36ish cookies

From verybestbaking-dot-com.


	6. Pumpkin Milkshake

**Author's Note**: My milkshake brings the DirkJake to the yard.

**Disclaimer:** I simply don't own Homestuck  
To whom this all concerns.  
It's only for my ship, DirkJake,  
For which my heart must yearn.

* * *

It was hardly a good thing, Jake believed, that he should be so anxious while waiting for Dirk to show up to their date.

On one hand, he was waiting for Dirk to show up for their date- this implying, of course, that they were going to go on a date to begin with. That was a rather positive thing in Jake's books, indeed. They'd gotten together just at the right time to enjoy the pleasantly warm, but not sticky May weather, and decided that tonight would be a rather nice night to celebrate their newfound boyfriendship. Jake was very much looking forward to it, especially since it would be their first date together ever.

On the other hand he was _waiting_ for Dirk to show up to their date. Having shown up nearly twenty minutes early out of nerves, Jake was left to languish at the ice cream shop they'd agreed to meet up at for shakes before going to the movies. Just the anticipation of not knowing when Dirk would arrive was driving him bonkers!

He was just about to give in and call the man when Dirk came into the petite parlor, exactly on time, down to the second. He spotted Jake at a table and slid into the chair opposite his boyfriend's.

"Hey," said Dirk. "Sorry to have kept you waiting. Did you wait long?"

"No, not at all!" Jake replied hurriedly, even though twenty minutes was no small amount of time to be kept waiting. He beamed like an idiot in Dirk's general direction. "So, what's the haps, my good chum?"

"Not much," Dirk remarked amusedly. He allowed his shades to slip down so he could wink at Jake, "Just hangin' out with my sweet-ass brofriend."

Blushing, Jake chuckled, "Well, yes, I can see you are, indeed!"

It still made him rather giddy to be called Dirk's "brofriend", despite the fact it had been nearly a week since they'd officially become a couple. The hand he had resting on the table shyly inched over towards Dirk's, and before they knew it, they were holding hands. It was so thrilling, it could have been one of Jake's adventures. Jake's cheeks turned even redder at that thought.

"So, Mr. English, what do you say to a couple of pumpkin shakes?" asked Dirk, referring to their usual orders. He squeezed Jake's hand a little and both of their hearts simultaneously doki'd.

"I say that sounds splendid," Jake answered with a doofy smile. He gazed into the abyss of Dirk's shades for a second, trying to find his eyes, but soon looked away from embarrassment. It was probably a good thing he couldn't figure out where Dirk's eyes were looking . He didn't know if he could deal with any actual eye contact.

The spell broke when Dirk called over their regular waitress, a girl called Nepeta, and placed and order for the usual. He returned to gazing at Jake with softness in his eyes- not that anyone could _see_ his eyes, of course- and warmth in his heart.

What was he supposed to say? Usually, first dates were for getting to know the other person better, but there was nobody in the world who knew Jake quite the way Dirk did, nor was there anyone who understood Dirk as much as Jake. They were best friends first. What was there left to say? The whole date thing was ridiculous, in retrospect. It would be the same as hanging out with his best friend... with perhaps one or two unironically romantic twists.

Like holding hands, for instance. Jake squeezed Dirk's hand this time, and it sent a surge of ecstatic electricity through the both of them. Dirk grinned- actually _grinned_!- and thought bemusedly that he could definitely deal with one or two unironically romantic twists, especially if they all turned out as pleasant as this one.

Jake's heart did a funny flip-flop in his chest when Dirk smiled- really _SMILED_!- at him. He hadn't thought his stupid grin could stretch any wider, but it did, and he fairly lit up like a fireworks display at the thought that Dirk was smiling because of him. Dirk hardly _ever_ smiled- Jake would know, being his best friend. To be the cause of such a momentous occasion was thrilling.

"Hey, guys!" the waitress chirruped, giving both of them a start as she seemingly appeared out of nowhere. "There's been a mix-up in the kitchen, and we ran out of single-serve glasses. I hope you don't mind sharing too much, hee hee!"

She vanished back into the recesses of the kitchen, leaving the two boys alone again.

"Well, I suppose that such occurrences can't be helped," Jake said optimistically. He poked his straw into the large glass and took a sip.

Dirk chuckled. He knew it was all a ploy to get him and Jake to share a single beverage; there were no other customers in the establishment and, even if it had been an extraordinarily busy day, it wouldn't take more than a minute to get a couple of glasses washed. He swore he could hear Nepeta giggling in the background. Still, he wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

He added his own straw into the glass and they sipped together, foreheads touching, until the milkshake was finished.

* * *

**Pumpkin Milkshake:**

1/3 cup pumpkin puree  
2/3 cup milk  
1 cup vanilla ice cream  
3 to 4 Nilla Wafer cookies  
1/4 tsp cinnamon powder  
5 to 7 scrapes of freshly grated nutmeg  
Whipped cream

1) Place all ingredients except for whipped cream in a blender. Blend until smooth.

2) Pour into a tall glass and top with whipped cream. Shyly gaze over the glass at your new boyfriend while drinking.

Recipe from Curry and Comfort.


	7. Pumpkin Martini

**Author's Note**: Here's a fun fact- I wanted to title this story "Pumpkin Patch" so I wouldn't have to write any actual languishing, but, sadly, someone already claimed that title a week before I had a chapter ready for publishing. Also, I do not condone or recommend underage drinking.

**Disclaimer:** Here's a fact as true as day-  
Homestuck I do not own.  
As sure as trolls are colored gray,  
I'll let this fact be known.

* * *

Dirk held his head as he nursed the autumn-flavored drink. For once, he had no fucking idea what to do. The only thing he'd thought of was to come over to his friend Roxy's and get pissed off his ass. Roxy always had alcohol available, and alcohol was exactly what he needed. What the hell had even just happened?

In retrospect, he should have seen it coming.

Dirk didn't know how he managed to miss it. It was as obvious as the ending of a cliche adventure film, the kind that was Jake's favorite, that this would be the outcome. Jake, he knew, had an excuse for not seeing it. He was oblivious as hell. But Dirk, _he_ should have seen it coming.

"Hey, Rox," he croaked, feeling a headache coming on. "Pass me another drink?"

"You got it, babe," she winked at him and poured another glass of pumpkin martini. "Are you ready to talk yet?"

Jake English, Dirk knew, was a free spirit, the kind that reveled in adventure and excitement. His interests waxed and waned as temperamentally as the moon's did, and with none of the predictability. He was the kind of butterfly that preferred to flit from flower to flower, mercurial in his affections, his only obligation to a gentle breeze. Dirk Strider, on the other hand, was the type of guy to cage butterflies in gossamer nets, reveling in their beauty for far longer than intended. His affections and interests remained as steady as the thrumming bass in the dubstep music that he favored; he was the type of guy who wanted something that lasted forever- something less temporary than a fleeting butterfly.

It was a clash of personality from the start.

"No," grunted Dirk, slamming back the entirety of the glass. There were, by far, too many thoughts spinning around in his head.

He figured the best way to go about it was by looking at it scientifically. Science was a thing he could do.

Point one: Dirk Strider had broken up with Jake English.

He decided that, objectively, it was the result of a reaction. Sorta like chemistry. Now he just had to identify the reagents.

"C'mon, Dirky," Roxy pouted, snaking a manicured hand over his shoulder and rubbing it soothingly. "You'll feel better if you tell Roxy what's wrong."

"No," Dirk remained firm in his decision. "Pour me another drink, will you?"

Jake had been pussyfooting around the subject for what seemed like months, but was in actuality only five weeks. Dirk knew, because he'd been bringing up their relationship exponentially more often as of late. It was pretty obvious that Jake was getting tired of him; he'd been excusing himself from Saturday outings and casually avoiding him in the hallways at school. Dirk knew he could be pretty clingy sometimes, but hell if Jake never complained. The sudden detachment, quite frankly, pissed Dirk off. He would've given Jake some space of only he'd _asked_ for it, goddamnit!

He came up with the following equation: One molecule of closely-bonded ionic DirkJake yields separate Dirk (minus an electron) plus Jake (plus an electron). And now, they both had the right number of valence electrons, so they could split up and go their own merry fucking ways.

Shit, he didn't even know. He was too drunk to worry about where their chemistry had gone wrong.

Roxy reluctantly poured him another drink, "Yanno, I won't judge ya for whatever it is that's got you in a mood."

Dirk decided to say something just to shut her up, "I'm movin' to Nevada in a week."

It was true, and he _was_ pissed off about it. He hadn't gotten around to telling anyone yet- his brother had surprised him with the statement just yesterday. Something about needing to be on-set to film some desert movie. The first person he wanted to know was Jake, but when he called him to see if they could talk, Jake had stuttered out an excuse. Finally fed up with him, Dirk broke up with him over the phone, not even bothering to see him in person.

"Oh noes!" Roxy gasped at the news.

Dirk knocked back the rest of his drink. He was beyond tipsy now, and his problems with Jake were just beginning to blur into a fuzzy void.

"Hey," he slurred, dragging out the 'e' in his drunken drawl. "D'you think I could spend the night here?"

"Of course," Roxy agreed, helping him up. He slumped over her smaller frame. "Upsy-daisy, Dirky."

They hobbled upstairs to one of the guest rooms, where Roxy dropped Dirk off.

It was the worst night of sleep he ever got.

* * *

**Pumpkin Martini:**

1 oz. milk  
2 tablespoons pumpkin puree  
1 ½ oz. Three-O Vanilla vodka  
1 ½ oz. crème de cacao  
honey  
graham cracker crumbs

1) Using a small amount of honey, rim martini glass with graham cracker crumbs.

2) Shake milk and pumpkin puree over ice to combine. Pour in remaining ingredients and shake well.

3) Strain into the martini glass. Drink while contemplating your relationship with your ex-boyfriend.

From Blisstree.


End file.
